A Penny in Time Chapter 9: Courage (part 2)

Fifteen and twenty-one equaled thirty-six, the same age my mother is now.  My Mom would be fifty-seven in twenty-one years, old but not ancient.  But I guess I wouldn't know what she even looked like in twenty-one years if I wasn't going to be there.  And I wouldn't know anything about anybody; my grandparents, my Dad, Slinky, Frank, Dean, Fran, Annie and all my other friends.  Or how ninth grade would be, let alone the next twenty-one years of my life on Earth.

"Would Sarree be a good mother?"  Better than me? I wondered.

"She wants only what is best for Yugo, even if it means giving him up to you.  She would do that out of love for him, and I think that defines a good parent."

I thought about my Mom...and my Dad.  I knew my Mom cared about my best interests, but to tell the truth, I had some doubts about my Dad.

"Would you be a good father?"  The nagging uncertainty that had been hovering over my thoughts was out of my mouth, but I couldn't forget that Mr. D had rejected Yugo when he first met us at the gate.

Mr. D's face crinkled and he bowed his head.  I don't think I hurt his feelings, exactly.  More like he admitted there was some truth to what I'd said.

"I would try my very best," he replied, like he was pledging his word of honor.  "I know that I would.  For his sake, for Sarree, for my own.  And, for you.  I have come to understand a great deal about love, because of you."

I felt my face flush.  I wondered if Mr. D could see the color red, or if he only sensed emotions.  "Why did the Perfect Council go all weird about the pennies?"  I dug them out of my pocket and put them in front of us on the table.

Mr. D stiffened, a rather odd reaction to a measly five cents.  "That is a great deal of wealth to us here, Dusty."

"Five pennies?" I quipped, arranging them in row.  "What's so valuable about these?"

"They contain the most precious resources on our planet.  Resources that are regenerated every five hundred years."  Mr. D's hand fluttered, then tapped lightly on the tabletop.  "Just the minute amount of copper and zinc found in one penny allows us to build and maintain our city for a hundred years."

"You mean, I'm rich here?"  What a neat thought!

"You are indeed," he answered with a chuckle, then, sounding just like an adult, added, "but you must realize you offended everyone by trying to buy Yugo."

Like I was some kind of slave trader!  "I did not!" I shouted, totally mad.  "They acted like he was worthless and all I wanted to prove was that I'd give everything I had to save him!"

Mr. D drew back.  "Yes, of course, I know that.  But there will be those who say you did not save Yugo out of love, but for gain.  There will always be someone who will find fault with the why and wherefore of what you do."

"And I thought this was a perfect society," I groused.  "No more perfect than my own."  I wasn't real sure that I wanted to be left out of my rightful place back home, anymore.

"Dusty," Mr. D whispered, though Yugo slept on unaware of us and no one else could have overheard us, "look out the window!"

The colorless sky was no more!  Streaks of reds, purples and pinks fanned across the horizon, like a brilliant Seattle sunset, though there hadn't been any sun to set.  Lots of dust maybe, but no sun that I ever saw.

"What happened?" I whispered back.

"Once in a million years!"  Mr. D's eyes sparkled and his face lit up with a smile.  "This is a most rare occurrence!"  He reached over and grabbed my hands pulling me onto my feet, adding with a little laugh, "You might say you've brought color to our world!"

He motioned to me and I swept Yugo into my arms as I followed Mr. D outside.  A great crowd had gathered all along the sidewalks and in the street.  A hushed murmur followed us as we walked down the middle of the street through a path left open for us.  I felt x-rayed.  Mr. D came to a halt in front of the mass and stood transfixed before the silent fireworks in the sky.  Yugo woke and I shared his sense of joy and wonderment.

Then he began to chitter, squirming in my arms, and I knew Sarree was somewhere near us.  I watched him eagerly searching for his mother, trying to communicate with me his sense of rightness, hope and belonging.  I clutched him tighter, willing him to stop, but I knew I had already lost that special link with him.

I had to look away, up at the sky.  Rainbows danced in my teary eyes.  Once in a million years wouldn't be enough for me, that much I knew as a deep, intense longing filled me to go back home.  I tried to tell myself that I was picking up Yugo's emotions, but I knew that this was my own, my very own, feeling.  I guess I knew all along that it wouldn't work out with me staying here, that sooner or later I would want to go home again.

I understood it all; and I didn't understand any of it.  The pain that had ripped my heart in two, left me feeling oddly at peace.  I scanned the crowd, looking for that face I would recognize as Sarree.  It wasn't hard to find her, for she was staring at me.  Me and Yugo.  Yugo blipped like radar when he spied her.  I had a choice:  break eye contact and turn away, or smile.

She strained to see over someone's shoulder and I lost sight of her momentarily.  When I saw her head pop into view, I smiled and moved so that there was a space for her.

The sky dripped colors, like a wet painting.  The gallery of Monosapiens oohed and ahhed, as Sarree squeezed between me and Mr. D.  Yugo chirped and mewed, rocking in my arms, delighted that he had us all together.  He reached out for Sarree and she hesitated but a fraction of a second before she took him from me.

He has it all, I thought, watching them, happy for all of them, yet tasting the bitterness of my loss.  Mr. D smiled lovingly at Sarree and Yugo, his massive, white-furred hand on Sarree's elbow.  She nuzzled Yugo, stroking his cheek.  It was a perfect picture of a perfect family.

I was not the only one viewing the perfect scene, for others had noticed.  It seemed all eyes were on us.  What did they expect?  I'd go crazy and run up and down the street, shouting and swearing?  I stood quietly beside the family reunion until the onlookers lost interest and went back to sky gazing, then made my way back to Mr. D's house.

It wasn't easy to find.  I had to walk up and down the little paths to the front doors and check out the nameplates.  It would have been smart of me to have counted the houses, but it seems I get these good ideas too late.  I had only walked in the door when Mr. D came in behind me.

"Dusty," he acknowledged my pain in saying my name.

"It's okay, Mr. D, really.  I thought about it, and I know that it's better for Yugo to be with his mother.  There's whole a lot I don't know about raising a Monosapien."  I laughed, but it was half-heartedly.

He tipped his head.  His smile was so nice, and his eyes were so kind!
"I'd like to go home."

"Yes."  He indicated the five pennies on the table.  "Take them."
I shook my head.  "No, I'd like Yugo to have them."

Mr. D clasped his hands, his face a map of concerns.  "That would not be wise.  So much wealth for one individual would be a terrible imbalance in our society."

"Then for the three of you!" I shot back.

Eyes downcast, he sighed.  "No."

With my back to Mr. D, I wiped the table clean of the pennies.  I was about to pocket them all when I flashed on  finding Yugo in the desert.  There were probably others out there left to die.

I plunked a penny down on the table, turned and faced Mr. D.  "Then this should be plenty to get enough food and shelter for all the misbegottens."

I had stunned Mr. D, I could see it in his face.  "You will make sure of it, won't you Mr. D?"

"Of course I will," his voice rose and filled the room with warmth.  "Of course I will," he repeated, coming to me and hugging me tightly.  "Oh, Dusty, what a legacy you've left us!"

Well, at least it wasn't a bad pun like my Dad would have made.  But still, I finally appreciated how making 'sense' could mean a lot of different things, all at the same time.

I was smothering and pulled away from Mr. D's chest.  "Mr. D, how am I going to get home?  I don't have a magic ring, ruby slippers or a mirror, so what's left---a space ship?"

He planted his hands firmly on my shoulders.  I sucked on the inside of my bottom lip, to keep from smiling and crying, for I felt like doing both.  We locked eyes, and I knew I would miss him and Yugo a lot, for a long, long time.

"I won't forget you, ever," I said, without even a crack in my voice.

He dropped his hands from my shoulders, brushing one hand across my forehead and down my cheek.  "Nor I you."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see through the window that the colors had begun to wash out of the sky.  Everyone began to drift away.  Sarree and Yugo would be home soon.

"Just open your eyes, Dusty," intoned Mr. D.  "Open your eyes."

Weren't my eyes already open?  Confused, I squinted hard, trying to focus on Mr. D.  I blinked and blinked again.

A Penny in Time Chapter 9: Courage (part 1)

"The woman, Dusty," matching fingers, Mr. D pressed his hands together, his voice husky, "is my partner, Sarree.  And yes, she is Yugo's mother."

"Then Yugo is yours!" I blurted, rising part way out of my chair.

"No," he replied simply.

No? my thoughts spun, and I sat back down.  If he wasn't the father, then someone else had to be.

"Here, where couples are together until death separates them, love is not the first consideration:  compatibility is.  But sometimes that is not enough.  And one person cannot love enough to make up for the void."

"You loved her?"  It came out in a squeaky whisper.

"I love her."

I couldn't help but glance quickly over my shoulder at Yugo, sleeping without a care in this world.  "How can you say that after she deserted you and left her baby out in the desert to die?"

"She had no choice.  Yugo was taken from her, unwillingly.  Yugo's father died trying to bring him back.  That happened, in fact, shortly before you arrived and rescued him."

Although Mr. D looked the picture of calmness, I wondered if he weren't torn up inside.  I was, just thinking about all this.  "Why did you take us in?"

He thought about that for awhile.  "Because," he faltered, "because I had wanted so very much a second chance to right the imbalance in our lives."

I shook my head.  "I don't understand."

"I love Sarree, but I didn't know that until after she left.  Only then did I understand she could love another."

I could tell he struggled with his feelings by his shaky smile, and I was slightly embarrassed.  Yugo stirred and cried out.  I popped up out the chair, relieved to go over and cradle him in my arms.  "I think he's hungry, again."  I handed Mr. D the empty bottle.

With Mr. D busy in the kitchen, I thought about what he had said.  Holding Yugo, Sarree's image floated in my thoughts; I got it loud and clear what he wanted most was to be with his mother.  All my feelings were a hazy swirl of reds and greens, like anticipating Christmas morning, not because of the presents, but because I would be there with my family.  But I couldn't see any faces I knew, only those of Sarree, Yugo and Mr. D.  Maybe I was the "eyes" of the dreamer; there but not a part of it.
Yugo longed for his mother.  Sarree.  A stab of jealousy pierced me, but at the same time, I too, wanted to be home with my mother.  We both wanted the same thing.
Mr. D handed the bottle to me without saying anything, like he knew I needed to think through my feelings.  I fed Yugo, very careful not hurry him as he lapped at the chalky stuff, burping him every few minutes.  He was so happy!  I had to smile and even began to hum 'Old McDonald had a farm' to him.

He fell back asleep, and I swear he'd grown the short time I had him in my arms.  He was heavier and looked longer as he curled up again on the couch.  I didn't want to get up and leave him, happy to sit beside him drifting along our currents of contentment.

Mr. D waited in the dining room, seated once more at the table.  We had more to discuss, but the questions no longer seemed that pressing to me.  Or maybe, I had to admit to myself, I didn't want to know the answers.

But it's like an itch, the moment you think you're not going to think about it, you have to.  I returned to the table and dropped into the chair facing Mr. D.  "You said you love Sarree, but does she love you?"

His bushy eyebrows knitted together and I felt the weight of each word he said.  "Sarree told me she respects and appreciates me for what I am."

"And you buy that?" I asked.

"It is a kind of love, Dusty.  She's sincere and honest and truthful, and that is a sharing of oneself that is also a form of love."

"And she loves Yugo because she's his mother."  And, I added to myself, he loves her, his mother.

"Yes."

"Where does that leave me?"  All those feelings of jealousy and rejection tumbled out.  I had to look away for a minute to catch my breath and swallow my tears.  Outside, the sky was dingy gray, the color of dirty laundry.  I missed the blue Seattle morning sky and the dark, starry nights.  "I love Yugo, too.  And I know," I insisted fiercely, "that Yugo loves me, too."

"Yes, he does."  responded Mr. D evenly, looking steadily at me.

I felt a gentle prodding of my thoughts.  "I'll take him home with me.  My Mom would understand, I know she would.  And I would give Yugo a good home, too!"  I choked on my tears.  "I swear it!"

"Childling," Mr. D smoothed away the tears, "there is no question about your love or ability to care for Yugo.  But Yugo would not survive in your world."

I shook my head.  "I survive here in his, he would in mine."

Mr. D cupped my chin in his hand.  "Dusty, look at me.  Would Yugo not be a curiosity, an animal to be caged for display in a circus or a zoo?"

"I wouldn't ever let that happen!  No! no! I wouldn't!"  I was really blubbering now.
He tipped my chin up so that I looked into his eyes.  "You wouldn't want it to happen, Dusty, but how could it not?  You couldn't very well hide him in your room, not for very long, even if you could find him food."

I swiped at the tears.  "Then can I stay with you?"

"Yes, if you wish."  He sat back again.

I hadn't expected him to say yes.  My tears ended with one hiccup.  "Isn't Sarree coming back here?"

"That depends on you."  Mr. D nodded, his face softened by his smile.

"What do you mean, Mr. D?"  I shook my head, wishing I could shake out my confusion into some kind of order.

"It took a great deal of courage for you to cross the desert and go before the Perfect Council and fight for Yugo's right to live.  You have shown the depth of your love and commitment.  I have no right to ask you to give up your claim to Yugo, but I must ask you to think very carefully what this means."

There's always a catch, isn't there?

He looked at me without blinking.  "You'll be responsible for Yugo until he comes of age.  You will be the focus of his life, and always answerable to our society, even in the midst of changes, now."  He leaned back, folding his arms across his snowy chest.

To be so powerful!  Making decisions that mean something. Changes, which affect others' lives.

Though he spoke ever so softly, his words framed a clear picture of what life here would be like.  "You have become a symbol of reformation, the catalyst of the changes that began with your arrival and your challenge to the Perfect Council.  It is inevitable that your every action, every word, your daily life, will be watched, analyzed and criticized."

"Sort of like being under a microscope, huh?"  I always felt a little sorry for those poor, unsuspecting specimens sandwiched between two slides, eyeballed to death.  But then again, to be a part of Yugo's life, forever!

"Yes, Dusty, forever."  He said it so quietly that I didn't fully catch the importance of 'forever'.

"Forever is a long time, Dusty."

A Penny in Time Chapter 7: Changin' Addi-Paddi (part 2)

I was going to tell him that no matter what was decided, I wanted him to know that I liked him for being who he was. I snapped the scarf out of the belt loops and stood before a mirror on the far wall adjusting it so that it laid symmetrical, then yanked one end longer than the other. Mr. D. waved the crisp piece of paper, as if to hurry me along.

 "Elizabeth Conner, bring the misbegotten."

"Come on, Yugo," I cuddled him close as I walked out the front door Mr. D slammed shut and locked.  There was movement in the bushes and I thought I saw a face, but it disappeared so suddenly I wasn't sure I had really seen anything at all.  "Mr. D. there's someone..."

He cut me off abruptly with,  "All are at the Perfect Chambers.  And from now on, you must call me Mr. dIAmand.  We mustn't tarry, the proceedings have already begun."

Mr. D didn't say another word as he strode toward the center of the city, me trailing behind, Yugo warm and heavy in my arms.  It seemed I had just caught my second wind, when Mr. D trotted up a set of stairs leading to the largest building of the city and held open a massive, glass door etched with a figure eight, which I recognized as the symbol of infinity.

I thought Mr. D had gone back to his high and mighty manner, but he whispered as I entered, "I shall wish for us the best outcome, the best for us all."

He preceded me into the chamber, leaving me below as he ascended stairs to the first level, nodding to those in the aisle seats, then found a seat in the front row.

The room must have been the size of Atlantis, and as I scoped it out I could see it, too, was shaped in a huge figure eight, with twenty tiers of seats in each rounded end, narrowing into the middle open space where there was a stage.  The place was jammed full of Monosapiens.  The room buzzed with talk, until I walked up in front of a stage where a panel of five sat.

A million eyes had tracked my every footstep up here.  Now I felt like Daniel in the lion's den before a bunch of ravenous creatures waiting to pounce on me.  The silence was so silent that I heard my own breathing.  Yugo was strangely quiet, too.  My right hand lay over his chest and I felt the evenness of his breathing and soft thudding of his heart.  How could he be so serene when I was a whirlwind of anxiety and doubts?

"You are Elizabeth Conner."  The cream-colored, furry hand slapped a gavel down, echoing the sharpness of his voice. His nameplate read ‘Judge Ludwig’.

It was a statement, not a question.  I nodded, clutching Yugo a little tighter.  A female sat beside Judge Ludwig and tapped a pencil, eraser side down, on a file folder, a fat file folder. Until she spoke, Mrs. Furbal looked like a really nice grandmother, with heart-shaped pink lips and wearing granny glasses.

"We have compiled facts of this case presented before us regarding the misbegotten."  Mrs. Furbal riffled through papers and handed a sheet to Judge Ludwig as he continued.  "The misbegotten by the name of Yugo, brought into the Perpetual City by one Elizabeth Conner."  He looked at me as if I should confirm what he said, so I nodded.

"First of all," the five Monosapiens on the panel peered at me, like they measured me for good sense, "this is not a judgment of you.  We understand the dilemma you are in, one of emotional attachment to the misbegotten, without a clear comprehension of the larger issues, which we hope to clarify for you."

Mrs. Furbal spoke next, avoiding me, focusing on the paper in front of her.  "The larger issues are:  if acknowledged, the misbegotten must be claimed by his parents; there is the question of what is to be done about the coupling/uncoupling; and what deleterious effect will this have on the progeny of the couple, the economical  repercussions, and ultimately, what effect will this have on our society?"

"Well said, Mrs. Furbal," remarked the man sitting on her right, Mr. Reader.  In agreement, the others, Mr. Stix and Mr. Light, nodded and smiled like puppets.

The judge met my gaze.  I would not let them override the 'larger issue' of murder.  "You can't justify murder, can you?" I challenged.  I heard a low rippling of voices around me, but I couldn't actually make out anything said.

That didn't seem to faze Judge Ludwig.  He explained, in a deliberate and precise tone, once more, the 'larger issues'.  "It is unfortunate that there must be such a drastic and undesirable recourse to correct an individual's mistake, but it is preferable to rectify the mistake rather than rend the fabric of society.  Those who go outside the legal union to find personal love hurt not only a mate, but the offspring, therefore all of society.  If couples were allowed to divorce, it would bring pain, as well as changes, to all.  This must, and will be, the prime consideration of the Perfect Council."

I was sweating and cold, for suddenly I found myself in a quandary.  I didn't want to say divorce was a good thing, because I didn't believe it was.  Hadn't I been hurt because of my parents' divorce?  I liked the idea that families stayed together. I liked the idea of a perfect society.  Would Yugo die if I agreed with the Perfect Council?  I couldn't let that happen, no matter what.  But I certainly didn't know what I was going to do about it, either.

I glanced around me. Only one in the crowd of clones looked directly at me, a woman with slightly different eyes and mouth, who clasped a blanket in her hands, and she appeared desperate, on the brink of standing up.  She wet her lips several times, wringing the blanket tighter and tighter.  Yugo chirped, as if he recognized her, wanting her attention, just as I hoped she would speak up.  For I, too, recognized her as the anxious face I had seen hiding in the bushes at Mr. D's house.

"Elizabeth Conner!"

I jerked back to attention before Judge Ludwig.  Yugo yelped, wiggling and straining to look behind me, making it nearly impossible to hold onto him.  I was ready to duck out of here and let these guys settle future issues for themselves.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to change things for the better, but I did know that I wanted to go home and that my mother would understand about Yugo.

Five faces loomed before me, without an ounce of sympathy for either Yugo or me, in spite of what they might say.

"By what defense do you wish to redeem the misbegotten?"

The room full of Monosapiens waited for my answer.  My brains were scrambled and my voice had dried up; I thought any minute my heart would hammer a hole in my chest.    "I'll take Yugo home with me!" I exclaimed.

"No!" thundered Judge Ludwig.  "You will have the duration of the recess to prepare your defense.  Dismissed!"

The gavel cracked.  I sank down on a nearby bench and tried to unravel my disordered thoughts.  Yugo's very life depended on me, and all I could think of was how much I wanted out of this mess.  I rocked Yugo, wanting a response from him, but he struggled to free himself from my arms.  He was looking for that woman.  But if she cared at all about him, why didn't she claim him?  And there may as well have been an ocean between me and Mr. D, for it seemed pretty certain he wasn't going to help us, either.

There wasn't any way out of this building, and besides, where could we go?  Back out there in the wastelands with those horrible creatures that wanted a free meal?  Right now, though, it seemed like inside or out, we were facing some pretty terrible odds trapped here with the Perfect Council sitting in judgment. If I ever had to save my life, it was now.  Strange, I thought suddenly, it's Yugo's life that's at stake, not mine.  But sometimes, it felt we were one and the same.

Yugo plopped into my lap, radiating trust that rankled me, for I was full of despair.  I cupped his face with my hands, and stared at him, trying to fathom his confidence. 

  Then it clicked!  Mr. D had said something was wrong with this society, and that must be the key to this whole thing!  If only I could unlock the secret before it was too late.  If only.  And time was running out.

Inside the Secret World of Teens

If you missed the CNN Special Report Special Report, "#Being13: Inside the Secret World of Teens," from October, 2015, I highly advise you to watch it soon. And, be sure to read these articles with additional information.

Being 13: Perils of lurking on social media“Most adolescents with access to smart phones are living their social lives online as much as they do face-to-face. Adults worry that teens are hooked on social media, but most have no idea what teens are actually doing online.

In this study, we examined the content of what teens actually say and do on social media, not simply what they say they do — and what it means to them. Not only are 13-year-olds using social media to post, tweet, share, friend, block, and unfriend, adolescents are spending vast amounts of time just "lurking," reading the never-ending stream of their peers' activities without posting anything themselves.

More than one third of them said they check social media without posting 25 times or more per day on weekends, and our heaviest users said they use social media over 100 times daily, including during classes at school.”
Read the entire article>>

Are you raising an Internet bully? Here’s how to end that behavior.
By Monica Leftwich, The Washington Post
“Faris dispells the notion that most kids directly model behaviors online that they witness at home, dismissing the idea that many kids cyberbully because their parents engage in similar actions. However, he does suspect that parents’ priorities could affect how their kids behave online.

Faris uses the example of “status games.” In short, some parents who get overly involved with their kids’ popularity or social status, or who themselves try to “keep up with the Joneses,” could be creating a sense of social competition in their children. If the parents put a high value on social climbing, Faris says, their children may do the same. This could create an unhealthy sense of rivalry in teens who prioritize popularity over true friendship.

That can spawn online aggression. For example, kids who value popularity will start vicious rumors online about other kids in order to tear them down while increasing their own “likes” and followers on social-media platforms.”
Read the entire article>>

A Penny in Time Chapter 7: Changin' Addi-Paddi (part 1)

I could not settle down, so I got up and wandered around the house.  Normally, I'm not a worrywart, but I was upset that there wasn't anymore food for Yugo, and worried what little he had had to eat would only make him hungrier when he woke up.  To distract myself, I thumbed through a history book in Mr. D's library and read the two page-history of the Perpetual City while Yugo and Mr. D slept.  Their whispery snores were in sync with one another, which made me laugh out loud as I came back into the room.

I scrunched down on the couch. Yugo curled up beside me, still sound asleep, but sending warm vibes that coated me inside out.  He purred and I read.

Although their civilization was thousands of years old, the history book only recounted the last thousand of years:  from 999 to 2000, the city, the people, the society, everything was exactly like it had been, was and would be.  The rest of the book was pictures, and I had the creepy feeling I could walk outside and find those very landmarks still in existence.  Maybe, I looked over at Mr. D sleeping, the very same people.  I had heard that history repeats itself, but I had never thought about it literally.

One fact snagged my attention, about the race itself.  Mr. D's genus was Mono, of the family sapiens, and reproduction was "homogenesis", which I found in the glossary meant "reproduction in which successive generations are alike".  I folded the book shut, wondering if 'they' were all of like minds, too.  Maybe I stood a chance against a committee that shared genes with Mr. D.  Then again, maybe I didn't, if Mr. D had mutated from the rest of 'them'.  Back and forth, back and forth went my thoughts, always leaving me flooded with doubts.  I wish the whole process had started, therefore, had been decided, and was already over.

I heard rustling outside, then a thump against the door and nearly knocked Yugo off the couch when I jumped to my feet.  Mr. D bolted from his chair and with his massive hand upraised, blocked me from the front door.

"No, childling, stay!"

Any other time, I might have been offended at being ordered like a dog, but Mr. D, obviously unnerved, only meant to protect me.  And Yugo, I think.

"Mr. D, I don't think anyone is trying to break in."  I pointed to the billowing curtains.  "It would have been easier to come through the open window." 

He patted his chest, where I imagined his heart beat.  "I have never witnessed so many strange events."  He appeared thoughtful, looking from the window to the door.  "I've never left that window open before now.  And there's never been any disturbance at my front door."

"Mr. D," I took a step forward, "let's look outside and maybe we can figure out what's going on."
He nodded to me.  "But you must stay here."  He took purposeful strides to the door and whipped it open.

There was a brown package on the welcome mat.  Mr. D stooped and gingerly peeked inside.  "Oh, my!" he gasped, as I bumped into his back.

"What is it?"  I knelt beside Mr. D, nudging his leg to get a closer look, trying to send reassuring vibes to Yugo so he would stop his frightened mewing.

"It's..." Mr. D plucked the bag up and smiled at me, a rather pained smile I thought, "a care package.  For Yugo."

Mr. D stepped over me, back inside.  "Well, Dusty, I dare say that Yugo will have something good to eat, real food for the nuzzling.  I'll fix it and you feed him."

After I dusted off my knees, though I really didn't have to because there wasn't any dirt on my jeans, I followed Mr. D into the kitchen.  Yugo had slipped off the couch and was waddling behind me.  "Look at him, Mr. D!  Isn't he cute?"

Mr. D kept his back to me.  "Who would do such a thing, leave this for a misbegotten?" he mused, fussing over the large nursing bottle.

I hadn't forgotten that Mr. D called Yugo 'nuzzling', which I thought might be an affectionate term.  "Maybe his mother did.  Or someone else who doesn't think it's right for babies to be left out in the desert to die."  I took the bottle from Mr. D, who frowned like my old principal did the time he caught me swearing when I slammed my locker shut on my left hand.

Yugo pawed at my legs until I picked him up.  He snatched at the bottle, giving short 'yurps' as he suckled and I tried to balance both him and the bottle with my hands.  Mr. D marched out of the kitchen, leaving me alone and wondering what I had said to upset him.

Yugo must have sensed my confusion, for he stopped sucking long enough to peer at me intently, and suddenly a lot of unfriendly faces flashed through my head.  Mr. D must be as anxious as I was about this upcoming confrontation.  Maybe he had mixed emotions about which side he was going to be on, or what the outcome would be for Yugo and me.  I had only begun to appreciate how hard it must be for him to accept changes, let alone campaign for them.  But there was someone else out there who wanted to help us, too.

"Mr. D," I walked over to his chair and he looked up at me, "if there are two of you that feel the way I do about Yugo, then maybe there's a lot more.  We might stand a good chance of convincing the Perfect Council yet."

Yugo started hiccupping.  Mr. D's nostril flared and he sighed, impatiently waving his hand at Yugo.  "He needs to be patted on the back."

I flipped Yugo over my shoulder and burped him.  "There's something you're not telling me, Mr. D, something that's troubling you.  And it's not Yugo, is it?"  I put him down on the couch.
Yugo was content to settle between the cushions and go back to sleep.  He seemed to have grown another six inches since I had fed him.  Yugo gave back to me the love I felt for him as I scratched his head and I was reluctant to let go of the good feelings that flowed between us.  But I had to get some things clear.  I went over and sat on a footstool in front of Mr. D and waited for him to speak.
He cleared his throat a couple of times.  "You're right, Dusty.  Something is wrong, very wrong."  He startled me by reaching over and touching my cheek lightly, then continued.  "You have read," he gestured to the closed history book on the arm of the couch, "about our history.  Was it not extraordinary?"

The way he said it, gave me the impression he meant it in a negative way.  "Yeah," I replied, "I thought it was a bit odd."

"In what way?" he asked kindly, leaning closer to me.

"Two pages about a perfect society.  I mean, I guess I thought history told about wars, conflicts, changes, you know, all that happens over years and years.  Like evolution."

"Exactly."  He smacked his hands and smiled like I had answered the winning quiz question.

"Exactly what?" I retorted, baffled by his smug expression.

"Our recorded history begins with the perfected society."  He massaged his knees.  "From the time of our recorded history, there are no wars, no unresolved conflicts amongst us.  That is why we can exist in the Perpetual City in harmony, a totally homogeneous society.  There is no poverty here, for here everything is in balance with our resources.  Even our arts and sciences have reached the state of perfection, where all needs are satisfied, for each and everyone of us.  Everyone is alike, and there is always agreement.  Every action is carefully considered, every consideration balanced.  Our marriage contracts are forever and each couple rears two offspring until the age of twenty-one, one quarter of a life span.  We are a self-perpetuating society."

He paused and took a breath.  I let all this information sink in, trying to pinpoint what it was that disturbed me.  After all, it sounded just fine to me.  "Families stay together, right?"

"Yes."  Mr. D locked eyes with me.

"I don't see the problem."  I held his gaze for a long minute.

"Couples partner for a lifetime; there is no such thing as separation.  Each misbegotten comes from an unlawful union, and threatens the balance.  Ergo, there cannot be misbegottens."

Mr. D stroked his chin, and I was hypnotized by the long, silken strands undulating along his arm.  I knew his reasoning was wrong.  "What about love?" I blurted out, startling both of us.

"There are many forms of love, Dusty," he answered quietly, and I detected a note of sadness, too.  "The good of all is the highest form of love, is it not?"

But before I could answer him, there came a resounding knock on the door.  This time Mr. D seemed neither surprised nor unprepared as he opened the door.

"It's a summons for us to go to the courthouse immediately."

A Penny in Time Chapter 6: R-E-S-P-E-C-T (Part 2)

"Well," he sighed, "perhaps we may have to come to a compromise.  Let me propose this:  I shall call you Dusty, and you may call me," he paused and squinted, but I think beneath the pained expression might have been a glint of humor, "Mr. D only," and he emphasized it again, "only when we are by ourselves.  It is especially important for you to remember this when we come before the Perfect Council.  Do we have an agreement?"

"Sure," I stuck my hand out and we shook on it.  "Now, we'd better get some food for Yugo. He's awfully hungry."

Mr. D bristled.  "I cannot.  We must wait for the Perfect Decision."

"Mr. D," I felt an upsurge of anger that swept away all the cobwebs from my head, "Yugo's fate will be decided whether or not he has a full stomach.  I wouldn't let you go hungry.  You talk about 'the way things are, the way things must be', but have you no sense of what is right or wrong?"

Yugo really perked up while I made my speech and punctuated my sentences with sharp squeals.  Mr. D appeared rather stunned, like he had been frozen for a couple of centuries in the same spot.  He must have considered what I said, because his face thawed into a smile.

"I believe there might be something that the misbegotten could ingest.  Come with me to my house."
I didn't see that we had much choice, whether or not to go to Mr. D's house or back to the desert.  This is the sort of situation you never want to try to explain to your parents, how sometimes you know you're not supposed to do something, but you don't have much of a choice, or if you have, you don't know it.

I think Yugo must have been telling me that it was all right, because I got a sense of being in the right place at the right time.  Although I thought it pretty strange that I was here, thinking about right time and place.  Some of our immediate problems were taken care of, like we were inside the city, not out, so we were some place, not lost, and we at least had the promise of being fed and sheltered.  I would really rather be at home, where I know it would be no problem taking care of Yugo or myself, for that matter.  If I want unreasonable, I have my Dad.

We were the only ones walking along the quiet, empty streets.  Rows of houses bordered the sidewalks, spaced like a perfectly planted garden of lettuce heads all in a row.  "Where are all the others, Mr. D?"

"Oh, childling," he chuckled, "everyone has a place to be and is there.  There is no reason for anyone to be about at this time."

"Is it day or night, Mr. D?"  Yugo was asleep again and I could swear he had grown in just the short time we had been here.

"It is," he answered, then added, probably because I looked like I felt, annoyed, "one and the same, here.  There is no change of season, either."

"I see."  Inside, I recoiled at the thought of sameness, the color of gray.  Yugo stirred but did not awaken.

We walked on, up one, then down another sidewalk, like we were in a brightly lit maze winding through the city, until we stopped in front of one drab, medium-sized house that looked exactly like the other beside it, with one tree per patch of brownish front lawn.

"How do you know which house is yours, Mr. D?"  I asked, not even trying to disguise my disgust.
"Why, I've always lived here!  Third house from the last, the right side of the street.  Simple."  He motioned me to enter, and before the door shut behind us, I got a quick look at the etched nameplate on the door, "Mr. dIAmand" in small, block letters.

"Oh, boy," I looked around, not the least surprised that the living room had an easy chair, one couch, a coffee table, with no magazines or clutter anywhere, and each visible room had the same off-white walls with light green fabric curtains pulled neatly in two halves from the windows.  "Nice place you've got here, Mr. D."  I plopped down on the couch and let Yugo burrow beside me.

"Yes, well, thank you.  I shall be back momentarily with food for Yugo.  If you'll excuse me."

"Sure, and thanks!" I called after him as he hurried to the kitchen.  Mr. D didn't seem all that stuffy now that we were here at his house, almost like he was happy to have us staying with him.  Maybe he had really wanted to do the right thing and take care of Yugo, but didn't want, or couldn't, put himself in the position to be responsible for that kind of decision.  I had no idea what it was going to be like before the Perfect Council, but I made up my mind I wasn't going to let it scare me, or make me do what I knew wasn't right.  Of course, I didn't like to think too much about what 'they' could make me do; I had some ugly images of blood, gore and torture.  But surely, this space and place was civilized, or so I hoped.  Then I looked down at Yugo, softly sleeping against my leg, and questioned how these beings could throw away their own babies and not care for them.  Maybe 'they' wouldn't care if I was a kid or not, no rules need apply here about what's fair or decent or right.  I only prayed that I knew what I was doing when it came time to stand up and face the Perfect Council.  I was sure that Mr. D wouldn't or couldn't offer much more assistance, and since Yugo was the problem, he sure couldn't do much in the way of helping.

Mr. D came back into the living room with a huge glass of thick, chalky stuff that smelled a lot like my old tennis shoes.  "I'm sorry to say that's all I have for him."

Maybe to change the subject quickly, he blurted,  "I have been informed that soon we will go before the Perfect Council, Eliz...Dusty."  He sat down in the easy chair, clasping his hands together and shaking his fur to lay smooth.  "They have agreed to meet in six hours."

"Why so long, why can't we get it over with sooner?"  I had difficulty getting the milkshake fast enough into Yugo's demanding mouth.  He slurped and gurgled while I tried not to slop any of it onto the couch, let alone worry about what was getting on me.  I was going to look real nice after this feeding, just perfect enough to go before the Council.

"Oh, no sooner!  Everyone will want to attend and hear the outcome.  It has become a major issue, and we will be very anxious to know the decision concerning the misbegottens.  It will affect us all, one way or the other."  For a moment, Mr. D lost his smile and I had a flash of misgiving.  "This has created a great deal of talk amongst us, you bringing the misbe...Yugo, here inside the city.  I don't think it will be an easy decision for the Council.  No," he stood and paced between the dining room and living room, "I don't think this is going to be easy for any of us.  Your being here has disrupted us already; we cannot be the same as we were before you came.  But I don't know," he stopped in front of me, clearly distressed, "if this is for the better or not!"

"Changes are always hard, even if they're good for you," I replied, wiping the last glob of liquid from Yugo's chin.  "But isn't that life?  Don't we grow and change all the time?"  I peered up at Mr. D.  "Or do you like living the life of a robot?"

"Oh, childling," he huffed, straightening to his full impressive height, "there's nothing wrong with life being predictable."

I looked pointedly from Yugo to Mr. D.  "Something's wrong with this society, something's really wrong.  And I bet there are some of you that aren't real happy with the way things are."

"Well," he stammered, "I suppose you always have malcontents, in any society.  But not enough to influence the whole network."

"If you're so happy with the way things are, then why did you take us in?"  I felt I was ice skating across the Atlantic, but if I couldn't make Mr. D see my point of view, I knew I was in for some real trouble up ahead.

 He drummed his fingers on the fireplace mantel, answering in a low voice,  "Because, Dusty, you're right.  Something is wrong, terribly wrong with our society.  And I hope," his head turned ever so slowly, his eyes seeking mine in a hard stare, "you can effect changes.  You're the only one that can."
There seemed nothing more to say and Mr. D sat down again.  I wondered just how I was going to convince 'them'.  I held onto the thin thread of hope that if I could change Mr. D's mind, I could change the Perfect Council.  I had to: it was so obviously the right thing to do that I knew I had no choice.  I hoped that if I never got back home, my Mom would somehow know what I had done and be proud of me.

Yugo stretched and purred, flopping into my hands like a cat does, totally relaxed and contented.  Without a worry.  Mr. D reclined in his chair, with his head thrown back and eyes shut, probably asleep, too.  I was wide awake, along with all my concerns.  I felt like we had used up some brownie points, and I sure hoped we hadn't emptied the cookie jar just yet.  Because, I thought as I tucked Yugo close against my leg while he slept easy, what we needed was another minor miracle.

Peer Mediation Can Help

"If you can avoid the physical violence and bring people together, you have accomplished what, from the beginning of time, mankind has considered a noble end.” - Richard Blumenthal


“Right in front of my eyes, those 20 students transformed into leaders and into activists.”
by Danielle Ross, MyCorneroftheWorld

“I’ll never forget that Thursday morning last year when my students and I sat together in class and cried.

What could possibly bring a class full of high school students and their teacher to tears? Bullying. We were sharing our personal experiences of being bullied and reliving those feelings that we push down but that don’t ever really go away. It had been 25 years since my “friends” had called me asking about homework and giggling in the background from a party I wasn’t invited to. Twenty-five years later and the pain came rushing back when I shared the experience with my peer counseling students. And I wasn’t the only one; student after student shared similar experiences that happened to them, mostly during elementary school.”

Read the entire article>>


Making Peer Mediation a Part of Campus Life
EducationWorld.com

“Teen skirmishes over rumors, perceived put-downs, and he-said-she-said arguments might seem inconsequential to adults, but to kids they can be major distractions. Mediation by peers can clear up misunderstandings quickly and improve school climate. Included: Ed World visits a peer mediation conference.

In schools, student conflicts can simmer for days. Starting with a glance, a whisper, or an innuendo, and seasoned with rumors, such conflicts can boil over into clique showdowns, shouting matches, threats, or worse.”

Read the entire article>>

A Penny in Time Chapter 6: R-E-S-P-E-C-T (Part 1)

"Childling, what are you doing here?"

Well, wasn't that the question of the year!  Before I could answer, the creature, I'd guess at least eight feet tall, shook his pearly mane and scolded, "It's much too late for you to be out."

He seemed to know me and I had a feeling I knew this shaggy, but well-groomed creature that towered over me, extending a paw-like hand towards me.  His fur was satiny-white and he had liquid brown eyes beneath puckered eyebrows in a rather stern, human-like face.  It was not an unkind face, just not too friendly.  Yugo, snuggled in my arms, wasn't the least bit afraid of him, either, not that I could sense.  But Yugo also didn't give out any information on this guy, which left me wondering if I should shake his hand or what.

I'd trust my instincts.  I clasped his hand and replied, "Please call me Dusty."

"Humph," he squeezed my hand and let go, "'Dusty' is not a proper name, Elizabeth Conner."

Now I knew why he felt so familiar, he reminded me of my Dad.

"Come along," he took a key from a big ring and unlocked the gate, a soft clicking echoing throughout the deserted streets. "You may call me Mr. dIAmand."  He swung the gate open and as I took a step, he stopped me with an upraised hand.  "You must," he pointed to Yugo, "leave the misbegotten outside the city walls.  It must return to the desert."

"No!" I shot back, without a moment's hesitation, heartened by my voice ringing in the still night air.  "Yugo and I stay together.  I must get some food for him.  He's starving."  I stroked Yugo and he purred.  "Maybe you can help find his parents."  I smiled at the man-thing, seeing a resemblance between him and Yugo.  Yugo would probably grow up to look a lot like Mr. dIAmand.

"It is not possible," he rejoined, stepping over the threshold into the city.  "Misbegottens are not allowed here in the Perpetual City."

"But he's one of your kind!" I shrieked.  "You can't leave Yugo to die out in the desert!  You can't!"  No one could be that cruel.

Yugo burrowed deeper into my arms.  We both felt terrified that we'd be left outside to die.
The keys jingled and I realized Mr. dIAmand's hand trembled as he spoke.  "It isn't done. The misbegottens do not come back.  You must understand, there is no place for them."  He met my eyes, and I thought I saw sadness in them.  "You mustn't interfere with the way things are here, Elizabeth Conner."

I took three steps over to him, facing him so that he could not avoid looking me in the eyes while I spoke.  "Is that the way things are done here?  Murder of the innocents?"

"No!" he boomed.  "These misbegottens are not innocent!  They accept that they must not be."  Then with a careful gesture, he touched my shoulder with his shaggy hand.  "Do not take it upon yourself to change things.  You cannot make what is acceptable seem wrong.  This cannot be tolerated!"

I sounded a lot braver than I felt, but I had too much to lose to give in to him, even if my own life depended on his help.  "It's murder, Mr. dIAmand, and you'll be a murderer."

"I am only responsible for you!"  He thundered, cutting great arcs with his hand-paw.  "I can do nothing for the misbegotten.  Now come along!"

"Who says?" I challenged.

"Who says?" hooted Mr. dIAmand, clearly puzzled.

"Who makes all these rules and says you're only responsible for me and not for Yugo?"

I had obviously asked the right question by the smug look on Mr. D's face and the sound of his voice.  "Why, the Perfect Council decided these matters long before you or I were born, Elizabeth Conner."
"Well then, Mr. D, we'll challenge the Perfect Council.  You'll be only responsible for me, as I assume full responsibility for Yugo."  I had a vague notion that Mr. D was in a bind; he must have been assigned to take care of me and I meant to use that to my advantage.  "I won't go with you if you won't ask the Perfect Council to consider my case for Yugo."

All the while Yugo mewed I stroked him, offering him all the comfort I could muster.  I banked on Mr. D's sense of 'responsibility' as being about as rigid as he was.

"Excellent idea Elizabeth Conner!  We shall do that.  Now, please come along."  He stood aside for me to walk by and I kept Yugo tucked out of reach, for I wasn't real sure Mr. D wouldn't snatch Yugo and throw him away.

"Elizabeth Conner," Mr. dIAmand brought his hand gently upon my shoulder, "you mustn't call me any name other than my rightful one.  It isn't proper."

Yugo still needed food and I had pushed Mr. D about as far as I thought I could, but I was stuck on a principle.  "In a way, I understand that.  You call me Dusty and I'll call you Mr. dIAmand."  I stretched as tall as I could make myself and looked Mr. D in the eye.

"But, childling, I must call you by your rightful name.  Surely, you can understand that?"  He asked so sincerely, so clearly baffled, that I had to reply with the very truth of the matter.

"It offends me."  I didn't want to go into all the whys and wherefores, so I added, "For reasons of my own."

He studied me, which gave me a chance to look him over, too.  He really was quite beautiful, with long, shiny hair that begged to be brushed and stroked.  He had a nice face, but one that I doubt I could remember or describe, other than it was nice.  I guess that's why he reminded me of my Dad, only Mr. D had a lot more hair.

Practicing Kindness

6 Simple Ways Children Can Spread Kindness in Schools
by Dr. Michele Borba

Practicing kindness is what helps children tune into other people’s feelings and needs, trust more, step out of their own skins to understand others, and become UnSelfies (my term for kids who are “more we, less me” oriented). Each kind act nudges kids to notice others (“I see how you feel”). Care (“I’m concerned about you”), empathize (“I feel with you”) and help and comfort (“Let me ease your pain”).

Helping students practice kindness also activates empathy and creates more caring schools. That’s why I consider “Practicing Kindness” as an essential habit of empathy.

Over the last years, I’ve observed countless classrooms around the world as I researched ways to nurture children’s empathy and reduce bullying. Here are a few favorite ways educators help students practice kindness and acquire empathy from my book, UnSelfie: Why Empathetic Kids Succeed in Our All-About-Me World. The book includes over 300 practical ways based on the latest science, and none cost a dime, and are simple to implement.

Read the entire article>>

A Penny in Time Chapter 5: Soul Surfing (part 2)

He must have been puzzled, too. I don't think he had any idea of what a light was, or sunshine. Try explaining it sometime. It really stretches the brain cells. Popped a few of mine, for sure.

"Never mind, Yugo. I'll know it if I see it." Which I didn't, right at the moment. Everything still looked basically the same gray nothingness that covered acres and acres of land. The sky was still a washed-out colorless sheet overhead and the rocks were even all one color of non-color. "This would depress a saint, Yugo. So imagine how I feel."

I wish I hadn't said that, because he did imagine how I felt. Emotions were not a small matter to Yugo and the fleeting moment of hopelessness came back to me magnified. I would have to be more careful, more precise what I meant and to what degree, or I would be too overwhelmed by despair to get up and go on.

I stood, bent over and picked him up, giving him a firm hug. "We're not without hope! We're not going to give up!" I thought then, I would go straight ahead, keep moving until a better idea hit me. As I picked my way down over the rocks, off over my left shoulder, I spotted a bright mass. "Yugo!" I yelped for joy and just about lost my footing. "I think it's a city! Yes, it could be! Hold on!"

I scrambled down from the last rocky shelf, stumbling and almost falling, but Yugo clung to me with an iron grip that amazed me, I'd thought of him as almost helpless. Just as I started forward, I felt a rumbling behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw a landslide of rocks coming down on us.

My first thought was Yugo. I hunched over, trying to cover him with as much as my body as I could while squeezing under the shelf I had jumped off. Pebbles and stones rained down, pattering the sand, stacking up as a wall around us.

Yugo cried and I felt him quaking in my arms. "It's all right," I reassured him, hoping he would believe me, "we aren't hurt and I'll dig us out of here." When I thought it safe enough, I once again put Yugo in the carrier-scarf and began plucking one by one at the rocks until there was an opening large enough for us to crawl out.

I was so happy, relieved and excited that I think I must have had the strength of Hercules to carry us all the way across the long stretch of sand that sucked at my feet. It was like running a marathon at Alki Beach, but in spite of the slowing down, I jogged at a steady pace, stopping short of the locked gate that led into the city of lights.

I was winded, but awfully happy to be here where there might be civilized beings. The whole place was lit up, the light radiating was clean, clear and bright. The buildings were huge, like gigantic polished mirrors that made what I realized was not a big city but more of a fortress, look so much bigger than it was.

"Our problem now, Yugo," I petted him and felt a hundred smiles inside of me, "is to get inside somehow." I absolutely had no doubt we would and could get there and get help. "I like to hear you purr, little guy."

I could tell he didn't like being strapped over my chest, so I undid the scarf, put him down while I tied the scarf around my waist, and then picked him again. I continued stroking him absent-mindedly while I searched for a doorbell or entrance. I no longer felt panicky, but figured it was just a matter getting someone's attention and we would be let inside. The last thing I figured on was Yugo biting me. "Ow! You brat!" I howled, shaking my hurt hand and hopping around, while I still held on to Yugo. "You're just lucky I didn't drop you on your face!" I examined my hand closely. No blood, but a lot of pain.

"Why'd you do that, anyway?" I peered into his face, and I didn't think he looked the least bit sorry, so I gave him a little shake and asked again, "Why did you bite me?"

Well, I guess if I'd been listening, I'd known the poor thing was hungry, more like starved. He must have thought I'd slacked off my efforts when I gawked so long at the city lights.

"All right, I understand, but remember it's me you're dealing with, and you shouldn't hurt your only friend." I snuggled him closer. "If you do it again, I'll put you down and you'll have to keep up with me any way you can, understand?" I think he took it as an empty threat, but I thought I could do it and would if he bit me again.

I grabbed the gate and rattled it, but it was solid didn't make any noise. I had been so happy to get here that I hadn't even considered the possibility of not getting inside. There was no way for me to climb over the six-foot metal fence, as it was smooth and slick, no footholds anywhere. So close, yet so far.

We'd come such a long way to get here, across a desert, chased by a demon, pelted by a rock slide, only to find out that we couldn't get in. We'd risked out lives to get here, and I wasn't going to let Yugo die. "Hey! Hey, someone, anyone!" I shouted, louder and louder. My echoes repeated, mocking me. "Someone, help! We need help!"

Even as I was shouting and peering through the slats of the gate, I thought it odd no one was in sight. I mean no one, no activity at all. The streets, sidewalks and storefronts were spotless and gleamed in the reflection of the lit-up buildings, making it all the more eerie because the city seemed lifeless. I listened real hard, turning my attention outward away from my thoughts or Yugo. I heard nothing. I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I screamed. Clutching Yugo, I backed up against the fence and stared, mouth wide open at the awesome, nasty looking dude in front of me.

Forcing the Hand of God: Chapter 24

The transfer Rodger had requested had come through the end of September. A month by ship to Burma then onto China where he was reassigned to the Flying Tigers at the base in Chenkung, China.
Drumming his fingers on his desk, he re‑read letters from Adele and Ada.

Time. He had lost its sequence. It seemed so long ago that he had been home. And not even him, someone else. He folded the letters and put them back into the envelopes.

He riffled through the paperwork that pressed on him like rubber bands over too many sheets of paper. He pushed it all aside, then stood up and stretched. Men milled around the outer room, rumbling voices all around. He heard snatches of conversation; a poker game was in progress. Outside seemed quiet enough. But something was in the air; he could smell it, like ozone before a storm.

Rodger walked outside, around the building, listening. He strained his eyes against the night, slowly sweeping his head left to right. Then he heard the faraway drone of an engine. He wanted to go after that crazy Jap, still around after all these months. Sweat tickled down his armpit and his heart beat wildly, but he reconsidered and calmly called out orders.

“Pickens, get Jackson. Tell him it’s his chance to sack the Wolf. Hurry up! Keys, Mannor and Robins, we’ll crew the plane.”

Because Jackson was scheduled for first flight in the morning, he had gone to bed, blissfully sober. He came at a run, struggling into his flight suit while Stony Pickens, arrogant and self-possessed, casually walked behind him.

He’s good and he’s trouble, mused Rodger.

Jackson glanced up frequently at the men loading his plane with armament, hastily pulling on his gloves, and helmet, then checking his boots and zippered pockets. A tense grin played about his lips that Rodger envied. Once he caught Stony looking hard at Jackson, his jaw pulled taut and his eyes narrowed.

As Jackson prepared to board, one of the mechanics cried out, “Oh, come on, Stony, wish him well! Be a good sport!”

Stony attempted to smile, to wave off the implications. Rodger understood Stony’s resentment, how much he wanted to go instead of Jackson, to be the one who claimed the kill.

Jackson’s engines awakened, the intense vibrations stirring the night. Rodger and Stony stepped aside to watch the take‑off. Rodger flashed the victory sign.

Rodger whistled softly, swallowing down his own envy as he watched Jackson out-maneuver the Zero, concealing himself in cloud layers, filling the sky with his noise, dropping on top of the Zero. They tangoed in the sky. Jackson had the advantage, and then lost it. But neither could gain a position for the kill.

The take‑off aroused all of the pilots from sleep, and they stood outside to await the outcome. The men on the ground listened, wondered, and placed bets.

For several minutes, they could see no sign of Jackson in the sky. Rodger checked his watch, searched the sky again. The dark mantle of night began to pale into an azure line running across the horizon, as if it were turning itself inside out.

Rodger was the first to see the flaming plane approach the field. In spite of his crippled aircraft, Jackson made a skillful landing, earning the admiration of the whole group. The fire crew rushed out to extinguish the raging fire that had gutted the tail section. Jackson hopped off the wing and, fire extinguisher in hand, helped put out the fire.

A group collected around Jackson as he walked back to the barracks. Once inside the debriefing room he removed his flight helmet and gloves then paused in his silent striptease act. No one spoke.

Finally, Jackson shook his head from side to side.

Stony tried to suppress a grin as he clapped Jackson on the shoulder.

“Right nice of you to have your sport and leave him for someone else!”

There was chorus of laughter, of relief and gratitude.

Rodger trailed behind the group. He heard the Night Wolf’s plane returning and shouted,
“He’s back!”

They scattered, heading for the outermost bushes. The Night Wolf made one low pass over the outside perimeter of the airstrip. In the starry predawn, a piercing howl echoed. The wounded Zero left, leaving a smoky trail.

“Ya got him, Jackson!” cried his wingman. “He’s hurt bad, too!”

Rodger walked beside Jackson. The lean, handsome face turned to him.

“Mine was the first strike, sir. I should have made sure.”

Rodger clapped Jackson on the shoulder.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You did some pretty fancy flying. So did he. All’s fair, you know.”

And fair for me, too, he thought.

Captain Robins rubbed his hands together. “Sir, we’re starting a little poker game, it being so close to breakfast and all. Would you care to join in?”

 Rodger stopped short, inhaling the acrid night air, sucking in all of the stars above.

“Deal me in.”

The rustle and click of poker chips rang sharply as he came in the door. Six men sat around the table, waiting for him. Their boisterous talk filled the tiny room, and someone was bent down rummaging boxes, looking for beer. Finally, the short, balding mechanic in a rumpled uniform produced eight capped bottles of beer. Someone threw a metal opener that skipped and clanked across the table.

Rodger watched until four of the men had taken a beer before he reached for a warm bottle. As he uncapped it, foam spilled over in quiet rivulets, oozing down the sides of the bottle, over his hand, dripping onto the floor. He wiped his hand dry on the side of his pants. He swallowed the salty, welcomed beer quickly, then abruptly plunked down in a chair.

“Five card stud, joker wild.” He took the deck, handed it to the man on his right to cut, and began the deal. Cards landed in place before him. “Ante’s white, limit ten dollars. We’re playing with American dollars.” He slipped the cards together and then fanned out the edges to peek into them.

Stony watched each man look at his cards. Rodger had once heard him say he could find clues in the reflections of an eyeball. Rodger dropped his eyelids, shifting his loose change from his right pocket to the left side, then leaned back into his chair. He found his silver dollar. Throughout the game, he would touch the edge of his pocket.

“I’ll see you and raise you five.” Stony let the chips rain down. After fifteen minutes, he had lost three successive hands, as had Rodger.

“I’ll call.” Rodger laid down his straight.

Stony fanned out his club flush, snapping each card down onto the table. “Read ’em and weep, Colonel,” Stony smirked, raking in the chips.

“Last hand for me,” Rodger said, mentally reviewing the upcoming daily roster.

Daylight streamed through the dirty windows. Each of the six men frequently whisked away beaded sweat from their foreheads. Two folded their cards and waved good-night. Rodger had dropped close to a hundred bucks, but he still felt lucky.

Time dragged around each play made. Four were still in. Rodger upped his bet by five dollars, hoping to narrow the odds. Two men folded, leaving him pitted against Stony.

Rodger leaned forward, rotating his shoulders as if to work out a kink. Stony chewed on the end of his mustache. He threw in another blue chip. Rodger tossed in one, picking up a red. Stony squinted, slowly pushing his red one into the pile. His eyes focused intently on Rodger, then he smiled. Rodger smiled back. Stony added another blue chip. Rodger eased in a blue one, then scooted another blue one beside it. Stony continued to smile, playing contentedly with his blond mustache. He scratched his chin, then picked up two blue chips and tossed them into the center.

“I’ll call.” Methodically, he exposed his hand.

Rodger laid down his royal flush on top of Stony’s ace, king, queen, jack, and ten. Only by a hair’s breath, he thought. But then again, that’s all I need to win.

The two who had folded, dropped the legs of their chairs so that they could lean over and see the lay of the cards.

Robins whistled, rolling his eyes backward as Rodger raked in the chips.

“That was real close, yes siree, real close!” he exclaimed. “There ain’t enough odds in the world that’ll say a combination like that will ever be seen again!”

Rodger nodded. “That’s for damn sure.”

Stony chuckled. Stretching his long arms overhead, he arched his back and yawned loudly.
“Not my lucky day by a long shot. Guess I’ll get some shuteye. I’m not due out till three.”

He stood up to go, then casually challenged, “Play you Cold Hand for a hundred, Colonel.”

“You’re on.” Rodger shuffled the cards, giving the deck to the man on his right. As each man flipped the oncoming card up, he stared straight ahead into the other’s eyes. When all five had been dealt, there lay an eerie hush about the room. Rodger looked quickly at his cards, noting that he had three threes. Then he glanced over to Stony’s hand and recoiled slightly when he recognized the aces and eights. Dead Man’s Hand. No one said anything.

Rodger swept the cards up and compacted them into a neat pile.

“Clean up and let’s get to work,” Rodger ordered.

Superstitious nonsense, he thought as he walked to his office. As he passed the board, he pulled the flight sheet down and replaced Stony’s name with his own.

After lunch, Stony stomped into the office, his mouth compressed and eyes ablaze. Rodger continued reading the paper in his hand, until Stony cleared his throat.

“Sir, could I have a word with you?”

Rodger looked up “What is it, Pickens?”

“I think I’m entitled to an explanation about the change in the flight schedule,” Stony spat out, “Sir.”
“Right.” He tapped the sheet of paper in his hand. “I reviewed your flight time. You’re due for some time off. And I need a few hours. That’s it plain and simple.”

“I want to protest—-”

“So noted, Pickens. Get some rest.” Rodger picked up his pen and began to sign the x’d lines.
With a thud, a clump of bills hit the upraised sheets of paper Rodger held in his left hand. He pocketed the poker winnings.

“Thank you, Pickens. This change has nothing to do with the poker game. My logs are up for review, and I can’t let any minor infractions show up. Don’t take it personally.”

“No, sir, I won’t take it too personally.” Stony turned and stormed out of the office, banging the door.

During the briefing, Rodger forced himself to act more enthusiastic than he really felt. The flight plans were limited in scope and field, the usual from the brass. He resented it as much as his men, but he pretended it was all perfectly sensible; and he pretended not to notice when his squadron blatantly disobeyed the cockeyed mandates.


Once airborne, he became just another pilot, working as part of a team. Reno was his wingman. The others, Steve, Coolly, and Nick, wasted no time doing preflights and run-ups. Rodger felt the current flowing between the planes, uniting them, washing over them, as blood goes from the heart to all parts of the body.

They took off with a direct vector, climbing north with one hundred forty miles to reach the Burma border, a routine mission. The flight spread out at the bomb line; all eyes swept constantly back and forth for enemy aircraft, making sure the sky was clear.

Reno cried out, “Bandits! Nine o’clock high.”

“Red Leader. Advance throttle and climb to twenty‑five.” Rodger initiated a climbing turn and leveled off at twenty‑five thousand feet. All of the others followed. Sweat slid from his armpits down to his wrists. They were working men now. No thought for anything else.

“Holy smokes! Red Leader, look what’s comin’ in from the south!” Reno banked slightly for a fuller view.

“Increase right bank!” Rodger barked.

As fast as they executed the turn, the Japanese Nates were out of sight.

“Lost ’em all, dammit,” moaned Coolly. “Nothin’ to write home to Mom about tonight.”

Then at eight-thousand feet, coming from the opposite direction, a single Nate skimmed along the cloud cover. Rodger pulled a quick ninety‑degree turn with Reno right beside him, level with the Nate, six miles back, their P‑38s screamed after him.

Reno dived behind him, staying level, but the elusive Nate remained two miles out of range. Finally at one‑thousand feet Rodger lined up the red nose, red rudder, and mid‑section of the Nate in his sights.

There was a short burst of flames, and little holes popped out on the fuselage. One more longer burst, and the engine and wings took the strikes. In a graceful dive, the aircraft began its descent, smoke spewing out. Rodger lined up astern, very close this time, and fired again. Huge hunks of the aircraft, flailing as if imbued with life, flew into space with dizzying speed. The canopy shot straight up, hovered for a second, and then tumbled over and over. The parachute blossomed, drifting slowly down to earth.

Almost immediately Rodger and Reno were rejoined by the others, along with the rest of the Japanese force.

Reno yelled, “Red Leader, break left!”

Rodger twisted over left and up into the sun. Getting into position behind the enemy leader, he tailed him hard until he had him in his sights. He pressed the trigger; a line of holes burst into the enemy’s wing. With grim determination, Rodger executed a hard barrel roll, passed over, and came into him again.

He heard strikes against his tail, but didn’t allow his eyes to wander from the sights. Again he fired. Two long, one short. The fuselage and tailpipe danced with fiery colors and gray‑green smoke. Rodger looked over to the cockpit. The pilot was dead, slumped against the controls, forcing the plane into an erratic spiral dive.

“Hot damn, Colonel!” sang out Nick. “We done ’em all in!”

“Red Leader here. Any damage?” Relief and pride in his men mingled with a sudden exhilaration. “Well, the boys at home aren’t going to believe us when we tell them about the ones that didn’t get away!”

They headed back to base. Upon approach, in tacit agreement, they made a low pass in unison.
The last one out of the debriefing room, Rodger walked across the compound toward his office, where he met Stony.

“Congratulations, Lt. Colonel. I heard you had a very successful day.” Stony crossed his arms and stared daggers at Rodger.

“Right. I expect the Night Wolf will be back tonight. You had better be prepared.”

Without another word, Stony turned and strode to the mechanics hut, issuing orders in a loud, surly voice; he looked like an emperor at the arena. Two mechanics scurried from the newly arrived ships to go to Stony’s, giving it a shakedown.

Rodger laughed aloud, wishing he had a picture. Then he shook his head, as if to brush off the lightness and good spirits. He went to the officer’s club, following the voices that led him to Banjo Billy in the poker room.

“Banjo, a word with you.” Rodger waved a flaccid salute to the other men.

His “Yessss, sir” was punctuated by the slapping down of cards.

“Couldn’t have come at a better time or to a better man.” He swept the jackpot into his hand, pocketed it, and saluted Rodger.

Rodger had cultivated a certain metallic edge to his voice while a captain on the high school football team, a voice that he knew how to use effectively.

“I have your request for a leave. Illnesses in your family.”

Squaring his shoulders, Banjo Billy replied, “Yes, sir. My mother and my wife. My mother’s in the hospital, and my wife’s having a difficult pregnancy.”

“There’s no one else that help out? No other family members?”

“Well, sir, no, but I’m, well, I’m an only son. The only man around. I mean; they need me.”

“Combat experience is at its lowest, and we need men with your background. You know that.”

“I know that, sir.” Banjo Billy frowned, distressed. “I’d only be gone a month leave, sir.”

“The war might wait for you.” Rodger shrugged. “Your request has been cleared by the Colonel himself. The transport leaves tomorrow, late afternoon.” He handed the orders to the and stared long and hard at the young officer.

Banjo Billy wavered. Rodger could see the captain’s resentment outlined in the clean-shaven, boyish face. But every opportunity he had, Rodger would pound home to his men: a man’s prime commitment, his first loyalty, is duty.

“Report to me at sixteen hundred hours.”

Banjo Billy looked around him. The guys were beginning a new hand of poker, each one talking to everyone in general. Rodger bet himself that he would not reach the count of one hundred.

“Excuse me, sir—but I’ve reconsidered. It’s probably more dangerous flying home. I’ll stay here and do my own, honest work.” He cast an anxious glance at Rodger. He ruffled the slip of paper, without actually tearing it up.

“Hey, Banjo, are you in for this hand or not?”

“In. But you guys don’t stand a chance in hell!” He quickly shoved the paper into his back pocket.
It was a bittersweet victory for Rodger. He went to the bar and motioned the bartender for bottle of half‑empty Jack Daniels and a clean glass. He left without a word to anyone.

Unlocking his office door, he remembered being twenty not so long ago. He sat heavily in his chair, pulling himself up to his desk, tipping the bottle into a glass. Without the lights on, the room had a gray cast to it. Rodger played with the shadow of his glass on the desk top. He lit a cigarette. His body tensed, and he strained to hear the noise. Yes, there it was.

He relaxed then, slouching back against the chair. He raised his tumbler, the amber liquid sloshing back and forth, in a salute as the beautiful screams of Stony’s Mustang split the still of dusk.

He told himself that Stony was not cursed; a poker’s hand had no meaning behind the game. Survival took skill, timing, and well, yes, luck. But you had to be good. Or lucky.

“Here’s to you. Go get ’em.” As the screeching tires left the pavement, Rodger downed the last mouthful of whiskey. “May the best man win.”

THE END

A Penny in Time Chapter 5: Soul Surfing (part 1)

I awoke with a jolt, squarely on my butt, not knowing where I was or if I were dreaming. Or what. The last thing I remembered was holding Sparky and a fistful of pennies and falling into a black hole. I examined my hands, empty, except for little bits of soft dirt, but no scratches. Still had the band-aid on my right thumb. My heart hammered like it might burst and I was panting like a dog. I guess I had to admit I was scared, because this place was like nothing I had ever seen. I listened and heard the stillness of nothing.

And here I was, in the middle of nowhere. Everything around me was a shade of gray: the sky was ashen, like the aftermath pictures I had seen of Mt. St. Helens; the dirt wasn't brown but ashy-colored and fine, and felt like old newspaper crumbling in my hands; and as far as I could see, a fog covered the ground. Even the bushes were drab and scraggly. No trees, but way off I could make out the outline of mountains.

I got up, and where I had sat were the five pennies. I picked each one up and pocketed them, wiping my hands clean on my jeans. I didn't know where I was or where I should be, or where I was going to go, but I thought I'd better start walking. I expected to stumble over headstones, for this had to be some kind of cemetery, for sure. But there was nothing but vast stretches of nothing. Maybe I was in the 'Twilight Zone'.

The mist swirled and curled around my legs, sweeping over my arms, but I felt neither cold nor damp like fog can make you feel. I felt nothing. I concentrated on counting my heartbeats. At least I'm alive, or I think I am.

I thought I'd better take my bearings, try to memorize my route. I turned around; behind me I saw the mist cover the path I had been walking. In front of me, maybe two or three feet ahead, there was a scrawny bush. It moved. Or did I just imagine it?

Well, I had to find out. When I approached the bush, the movement stopped. My skin crawled, like tiny ants moved up my arms and across my neck. Words froze in my throat, and the only noise that I made was sort of a stuttering hum. The bush chattered and I jumped back. I saw two tiny eyes peering at me, two specks of red lights in a furry face. I knelt down, close but not close enough to touch the creature. It hummed back the same sound I had made.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you," I whispered, wondering if it would hurt me. "Come on, come out. I won't hurt you," I repeated louder, offering my hand like you would for a dog to sniff. It burrowed down into the dirt, all but covered itself, except for those eerie little eyes.

It stayed beneath the bush, hidden by the crackling twigs for a long time. I couldn't leave it there, even though I told myself that I should be worried about myself. I felt incredibly lonely, like if I walked away from this creature, I'd be even more lost. Finally, it wiggled, shaking off the dirt and snapping off pieces of the brush as it ventured forth to almost-touching distance of my hand. It was small and cute like a baby koala bear! I waited, barely breathing, for it to come nearer. When it nuzzled my hand, I slowly brought my other hand over and started stroking its downy fur. "See," I murmured, "I said I wouldn't hurt you."

It answered me with a hum, the same soft monotone of my voice. "You like that, don't you?" I kept petting it and it kept humming, mimicking the sound of my voice.

"Poor, little thing," I scratched its delicate, pointed ear, and took a good look at it. It had a furry body with a face and hands more human-like than animal. "Are you lost, too?" I asked.

It whimpered, sounding just like a baby tired after crying too long. "Come on, then, I'll pick you up and we'll look for your parents." I scooped it up and it snuggled into my arms while I continued stroking it from its head down the middle of its back. It had no tail, but feet with thick pads and five toes. Surely, its mother and father were trying to find it. But where to look? Where to begin? Now, both of us together were in the middle of nowhere.

I don't know how or why, but I got the impression that it didn't have anyone who cared for it. The thought came so suddenly and so surely that I knew it was true. I felt a searing pain inside me, of loss and want and not knowing the why of it. "It's okay," I crooned, "I'll figure something out pretty soon."

I felt a rush of warmth as I looked down at this little creature in my arms, unsure whether the feeling was mine, or it gave the feeling to me. "Whatever," I answered myself out loud, "I guess we share and share alike."

"Do you have a name?" I held the creature at arm's length and stared into its eyes.

"You go!" ripped every thought from my mind, making me gasp in shock and pain.

My head throbbed and I felt like crying. I pressed the creature closer to my chest and waited for the flood of feelings to subside. For a few quiet moments, I tried to come up with a logical explanation for what was happening. As if anything here made sense! But if, and I thought it pretty far-fetched, if we were sharing thoughts, it could be that "You go!" was the only thing it had heard before I had spoken to it. At least it made some sense and gave me the feeling that I was right.

"Well, let's see." I stroked it, using every ounce of good feeling I had to impart as a means of comfort as I ran through a list of names, but none suited it. "Okay, how about Yugo?" I suggested in my nicest, softest voice. "Maybe we can change the bad feeling into something good, what do you say?"

The tangled mess of feelings in my gut unraveled and I relaxed. "Good, then Yugo, we've got one problem solved!" Which made me feel wonderful, except we were still at the same spot we were five minutes ago.

Yugo yelped. I felt his fear like a bolt of lightning through me. I don't know if I heard it, sensed it or saw it, but I do know I was running as fast as I could. Then in a fast glance back I saw a lot of mean something after us. I bolted, putting distance between us and some nasty fangs hot on my heels.

I clutched Yugo tight to my chest and dashed for the mountains, making out a possible hiding place. I ran, gasping and with a stitch in my side. It seemed like a hundred miles later I wedged us behind a big boulder. Whatever that thing was, big, four-footed and ugly as a rabid dog, snarling and pacing around the rock, it wanted us, but couldn't get at us. I told myself that I should be really afraid, but I wasn't. We could wait it out, and it would go away soon. It did.

"Yugo, that was close," I peered out, inspecting our surroundings. "Whatever is that thing?"

‘Not good!’ Punctuated my thoughts.

"Not good," I repeated aloud. Yeah, I guess it wasn't good. "Where do we go from here?"

But I got no answer on that one. Yugo was sound asleep. Me, I was too hyper to sleep, yet exhausted, too. So I sat on top of the flat part of the boulder and rocked Yugo while I looked over the horizon. I really had become attached to this little guy, like he was a part of myself that I understood on a gut level. He wasn't the least bit heavy or hard to carry. I thought how strange, like my arms should be tired by now. But hardly anything made sense here on this forsaken planet without moon, or stars, or for that matter, day or night. I recapped what I did know, very little at that: I had Yugo, who had me, and we had between us, a sharing. But practically, we had nothing. No food, water, or shelter. I didn't feel cold, hot or hungry, just all these crazy, mixed-up emotions.

Yugo must have had parents and a home at one point in his life, but he wasn't saying if he remembered. Maybe it was best he didn't remember, for the pain might be unbearable. Didn't I know how it felt when someone you loved suddenly stopped caring for you?

"Are you awake, little guy?" He stretched, tensed and relaxed, then nodded off again. "It's not going to be easy for me to find some place for us to go, unless you can help." But he didn't seem to hear, or least he didn't respond.

Where do you go when you don't know where you are?

I did know I had left nothing behind me, and as far as I could see, there was nothing to the right or left of us, except a huge mountain. I had to scale the steep slope and look around. What would I do with Yugo? I had to have my hands free. Then it hit me! Of course, I could wrap Yugo in my scarf and use my scarf as a carrier.

I woke Yugo when I put him down beside me. "It's okay," I answered his whine, "I'll show you what I have in mind." I unwound the scarf, scooped him up and gently placed him down on it, criss-crossing the ends. "Look, I’ll carry you while I climb over these rocks to get to the top and see if there is a place for us to go." I hugged him close as I could without smothering him and tied the ends.

I could tell Yugo didn't much like my idea, but he did understand we didn't have much of a choice. I had hoped he would remember something useful and relay it, but he didn't and I began the long, hard climb over the dark side of the mountain towards the top with Yugo mewing all the way.

"Listen! This is no picnic for me," I huffed and puffed, pulling us over another rock. The closer I got to the top, the further it seemed to be. We were getting nowhere. Finally, I had to stop and sit down to rethink a new plan.

"Is there no light?" I asked Yugo once I had unstrapped him and stuffed my scarf into my pants pocket.

Forcing the Hand of God: Chapter 23 (part 2)

“I know, good knight, I know,” Adele murmured back. She dropped his hand and went back into the kitchen, leaving him and Aunt Carrie facing one another.

“Oh, Rodgie, how can you let yourself be beaten so!” Like a pampered squirrel, she nested into the chair, worrying her question.

“Don’t know. It’s funny, but you don’t even feel it,” Rodger gulped at his beer, “until later. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It’s bad enough. You should see yourself!” Carrie pointed at him. “Is that any way for a man of your age and rank to behave?”

“Only if I win, Aunt Carrie,” he grinned. “Then I’m the hero of the hour.”

Madeline appeared. “Would you kindly prepare for dinner?”

Rodger nodded to the girls’ room. “I’ll call them.”

Adele bustled into the living room, then up the stairs. “No, the baby’s asleep. I’ll bring Heather and Rachel down.”

He drained the rest of his beer. The uncomfortable silence in the room pulled at him like over-stretched elastic. He wished this part of the night over so that he could relax with Ada and Adele.

Dues. He had to pay the family dues.

Rachel and Heather ate side by side, sneaking glances at him. Madeline silenced them with a reproachful look before either could question him. Rodger put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.

“I’m curious whether Captain Midnight goes after those Japs tonight. Last night he almost bought it.”
Madeline slapped down her napkin. “Isn’t it bad enough there’s a real war raging all over Europe without a silly, make‑believe hero?”

His jaw tensed as he stared down his mother.

“I’ve known a dozen Captain Midnights, Mother. Real guys.” He pushed away from the table. “I’ll be back, girls. Warm up the radio.”

He let himself out the back door, walking up towards the riverside, pounding out his anger in every step. Over and over in his mind, he sought a way out from the endless arguments. He stopped by a sycamore tree and leaned against the rough bark, twisting his head back and forth, trying to ease the tension.

He bent down and picked stones to skip across the river, thinking of Tommy and the days they had played on rafts down here. The summer days he had fished. The picnics with Dee Simmons. Skinny-dipping. And making love on a woolen blanket. And a dozen things he had wanted to tell his father.
He flipped another smooth stone across the water, counting the ripples from three centers. Then he took his time strolling back to his mother’s house. He checked his watch. Just in time for Captain Midnight.

Adele sat on the edge of his mother’s bed, nursing Jonelle as Rachel and Heather hovered around the crackling radio. Rodger leaned over between his sisters and twirled the knob until the announcer’s voice barked, “The makers of Ovaltine® sponsor the following program.” He sat cross‑legged in front of the radio with Rachel and Heather, engrossed until the very end.

He turned to Adele. “Now, radio, that’s a worthwhile past time.” He stretched, raising his arms. “I’m going next door to talk to Ada. Come with me.”

Like a startled katydid, Rachel jumped up from the floor. “I think I hear Ada at the door now.”

“Let’s go down and see her!” sang out Heather. Both girls darted out the bedroom and down the stairs.

“Jonelle’s finished nursing.” She handed the gurgling baby to her husband. “Go see Daddy. Here.”
With Jonelle on his shoulder, he led Adele down the stairs.

Madeline rushed over to Rodger and scooped Jonelle out of his arms. “Ada look! Don’t you think she has John’s eyes?”

Rodger swiped the baby out of his mother’s hands. Her eyes bugged out, but she didn’t make a sound. He presented Jonelle to Ada, who opened her arms to receive the squirming bundle.

“I…I think,” Ada stammered, “that Jonelle has your hands, Madeline. Her fingers are so long.”

Madeline bit her lip. She examined her nails.

“I hope she has Adele’s personality.”

Rodger gathered his bag in his left hand.

“I do, too.” He marched to the door, turning to see his aunt emerge from the kitchen. “And Aunt Carrie’s smile.” He held the door open for Ada and Adele to exit. “Good night, Mother. Good night, Aunt Carrie.” He blew kisses to his sisters.

“Thank you for dinner, Mother. The casserole was delicious!” Adele stopped by his side. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Madeline looked to Carrie, who held onto a pie dish in her chubby hands. “Won’t you stay for dessert? Ada brought us a strawberry cream pie.”

Rodger nudged Adele with his elbow.

“No, thanks. Maybe tomorrow.”

Out on the sidewalk, Adele snatched his shirt sleeve. “Just what gives you the right to be so damn rude to your mother?”

He threw off her hand.

“She irritates the hell out of me!”

Adele put her hands on her hips. Ada went on into her house with Jonelle. Fireflies sparked the evening air. “Your mother is scared, Rodger. Try to understand.”

He tore the wrappings from a new pack of cigarettes, punched one out, stuck it between his lips, and fished in his pocket for a match. He lit the match and held it away from the tip of the Lucky until it burned half‑way down. “So now you want to play the peacemaker?”

Adele’s raspy breathing, timed to his own, linked them in an odd agreement. She pointed her finger at him, stabbing the space between them.

“You’re a brat.”

He batted her finger with his right hand. “You sound like a granny.”

She laughed. “Maybe I’ve been around them too long,” she jerked her head backwards, indicating the house. “To be truthful, I understand why they get on your nerves.”

He stepped to her side, clasping her about the waist. “Don’t start that nagging. That’s one of the things I loved you for. You never were a whiner or nag.”

Adele hugged him. “But, Rodger, you can’t get your way all the time.”

“Why not?” He flicked away the cigarette stub.

“Because!” Adele shot back. Rodger opened the screen as Adele pushed open the front door of Ada’s house.

Ada sat on the couch, pillows propping her elbows as she held Jonelle and sang a lullaby to her. She had a surprisingly deep and gravelly voice.

Rodger watched her stroke Jonelle’s cheek, seemingly lost for a moment in the mystery of the baby and her song. Adele waited for Ada to finish the lullaby before picking up Jonelle.

“I’ll feed her once more, and maybe, just maybe the walk home will put her asleep for the whole night.”

Ada settled back into the couch. “Don’t count on it. Those night feedings might go on for another month or more.” Adele padded down the hall to the bedroom, leaving Ada and Rodger alone. He drummed the arm of the chair with his fingertips.

“I could rig up your sewing machine so that it’ll be easier to use.”

Ada massaged her hands, shaking her head so that her fine gray hair trailing from its chignon swayed like miniature streamers.

“You’ve done quite enough, mister.”

When Rodger frowned at her, she gave a dismissive a wave of her hand.

“Oh, all right. If you insist and have nothing better to do with your time, I’d be pleased to have you do it.”

“I have the time.” He avoided her eyes, until he could stand it no longer. “What’s the matter?”

“You.” Ada inched closer to him. The fine material of her flowered dress stretched taut against her bosom. “Tell her the truth, Rodger.”

He bolted upright. “Goddamn it! Why is everyone ragging on me?”

Ada pursed her lips. “It’ll not be right between the two of you if you keep secrets.”

“I don’t keep secrets.” He stared fixedly at her.

“I’ve known you too long, Rodger, not to know when you’re hiding a piece of the puzzle.”

He blushed, remembering how important it used to be to him to put in the last jigsaw puzzle piece. Ada never scolded him for keeping it in his pocket for a day or two, but she always made him put it in, finally.

“I have to go back,” he lowered his voice. “I have to square things for Mary Elizabeth.” He leaned down and smacked the kitten as it leaped for his shoe. “I have this dream. Every night. Running away from Mary Elizabeth and LinChing as they stand in front of the mission, begging me to take them home. Only there’s no home.”

The kitten sought refuge in Ada’s lap. She petted it absent‑mindedly.

“But Jonelle...,” Ada’s voice cracked.

Rodger searched Ada’s loving face.

“She’s in good hands.” He looked away, out the window at the dark shadows of the leaves on the tree. “I’ll come home.”

Adele came out of the bedroom, Jonelle asleep on her shoulder. Rodger hurried to the buggy by the chair and wheeled it over to Adele. Ada smoothed out the blanket, her hands working around Adele’s as she lay the baby down. Rodger propped the door open and took the buggy down the steps onto the sidewalk. He waved to Ada as Adele hugged her goodbye.

Adele hopped to catch up with him, clutching his hand as they walked side by side. The wheels of the buggy squeaked. He sighed as they came upon their brightly lit porch.

“Must cut the grass in the morning,” he said as he opened the door.

Adele pushed the buggy indoors. “Let’s just take it easy tomorrow, honey,” she pecked his sore cheek. Rodger winced. “Oh, sorry.” She went to touch it, but he pulled away.

“I’m tired tonight. Are you?”

“I haven’t boxed in the ring,” Adele faced him, the tartness of her voice betraying the comfort of her words.

“What is it you want from me, Adele?” Rodger crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

“I don’t know,” she paced in front of him, wringing her hands. “Maybe that’s the question I should be asking you.”

“Jesus, Adele! I want you to be happy. The baby to be happy.” He chewed his lip. No, this wouldn’t wash; she wouldn’t be compromised with a vague truth. “I don’t know. Something inside of me.”

“What? Losing your father? Sam? Mary Elizabeth?”

“None of that. All of it.” He closed his eyes. “I thought today about how LinChing busted his bones to do the right thing all the time. On top of those planes like he was personally responsible for them, he had his kid, too. Trying to do the right thing.” His left cheek and ear throbbed, shooting pangs along his neck. “You’re on me lately about every damn thing I do.”

“I want you…you,” she stumbled over her words, “to want to stay with us.”

“It wasn’t my idea to start this war.” He watched her through slitted eyes.

“No, but it seems to be your game.”

“I’m a flyer, honey. You knew that before we married.”

She sighed in defeat. “I know. I guess I thought because I changed after having Jonelle, you would, too.”

He grabbed her by the hands and embraced her.

“I’ll always provide us a good home and be a great daddy. You wait and see.”

Adele hugged him hard. “I’ll be here. I’ll wait.”

“And,” he pulled back to look into her eyes, “I’ll bring you more silver, marble and silks from China.”

She stared long and direct at him. “Just bring yourself back in one piece, mister.”

Soft mewing sounds came from the buggy as Jonelle awoke.

“There, there, hush, hush,” Adele cooed as she lifted Jonelle from the buggy and took her to the nursery.

Rodger watched them disappear into the room and then turned into the bedroom. He hastily undressed and crawled between the cool sheets.

He heard the sheets rustling and felt the warmth of Adele’s body when she climbed in bed beside him. She encircled his waist with her arms and snuggled into his back. Sleep enfolded him.

In the middle of the night, a pocket of coldness where Adele should have been shocked him awake. He listened for her above the pounding of his heart.

She moved through the hallway, to the door and paused.

“Rodger?” the alarm in her voice distressed him. “What’s the matter?”

He sat on the edge of the bed, cradling his head in his hands.

“Nothing. Come to bed.”

She slid in behind him, hugging his shoulders, pressing her face against his back.

“Are you in pain?”

“No.” He sat still, then turned and lay down, pulling her into his side. “I have to tell you something.”
Hiccupping cries pealed throughout the house. Adele sprang out of bed and ran down to the nursery. Minutes later, she returned with Jonelle nestled against her shoulder. Rodger reached over to the bed stand and flipped on the light, illuminating Adele’s face etched in worry. He patted the edge of the bed.

“Come here. It’s not that bad. And you probably know anyway.” Adele sat down beside him, and he put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in a gentle hug, careful of the nursing baby. “I’ve put in for a transfer for China. The Flying Tigers.” He shrugged. “May or may not happen.”

Adele cradled the baby against her shoulder, patting her on the back and nodded her head in time with the taps. Jonelle burped, sighed and closed her eyes, whispering baby snores.

“Sooner or later, I knew you’d go back.”

“I want you to understand I have to go back.” He sighed, pulling her close to him and kissing her ear lobe. “You know, for God, motherhood, apple pie, and all that.”

Adele pressed her forehead against his.

“No,” she muttered, shaking her head back and forth. “For you, Rodger.”

She took the sleeping baby back to her bed. He thought he heard muffled sounds of Adele crying. He waited, his shoulders aching from being tensed.

She tripped into the room, dancing in front of him with her nightgown fanned in her hand, and pulled taut, her body outlined by satin. He watched, fascinated. She dipped and swayed, inviting him with a wave of her hand. He rose, accepted her hand, crushing his body into hers, moving in time with her undulating hips. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back, she parted her lips and waited for his kiss. He met her lips. They waltzed. He pressed his cheek against hers, thankful for this hour. In the light that cast their ghostly shadows about the room; all else forgotten, they danced.